


netflix and marry me

by lolainslackss



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Blow Jobs, Domestic Bliss, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 19:31:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14754924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolainslackss/pseuds/lolainslackss
Summary: "Sometimes he’d not want to have sex for a week, two weeks, a month. Other times he would fantasise for three days straight, think about fucking Andrew this way and that, here and there, think about fucking until he was fit to burst."..In which Andrew does some gardening and Neil is turned on but needs encouragement instigating things.





	netflix and marry me

**Author's Note:**

> title from the song 'yours' by rocky nti which doesn't really have anything to do w the fic tbh but is a bop
> 
> this is porn??
> 
> cw: blow jobs, hand jobs

Neil was distracted. He was watching Netflix, trying to concentrate on a dumb, true crime documentary that Nicky had recommended and couldn’t shut up about. _Trying_ to concentrate and failing, because through the window, he could see Andrew gardening.

Blood spattered across a carpet somewhere down south; there was a false confession, a stolen car. Neil yawned, and his eyes travelled from the TV screen to the garden again. Andrew was wiping his brow, his hands clad in these huge gardening gloves that were so big on him they looked like boxing mitts. Poking out of them were his armbands, stretched up to the crooks of his elbows. He was wearing an old vest, one that had been washed over and over, so thin it was nearly see-through in the sunlight. His biceps were swollen from the digging, glistening from the heat. Neil swallowed thickly and forcibly turned his attention to the screen.

On it, a woman was sitting in a courtroom rambling about something or other. Neil didn’t have a clue what was going on. He shifted his hips, pressed his thighs together, looked out the window once more. Andrew was wearing shorts; this was a rarity, but in the thick, hazy heat, it was necessary. The fading denim was cut away just above his knee, so that Neil could see a couple of inches of his thigh. Neil could imagine smoothing his hand across that rigid plane of pure muscle, digging his fingertips in there until Andrew stiffened, sighed, curled his toes, and he huffed out a frustrated breath.

Sometimes he’d not want to have sex for a week, two weeks, a month. Other times he would fantasise for three days straight, think about fucking Andrew this way and that, here and there, think about fucking until he was fit to burst. It had been many years since they’d started their _this_ on a deserted rooftop. Since then, every shared moment of physical intimacy was a tiny battle won, but Neil wasn’t used to initiating sex.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Andrew said, standing in front of the TV and gulping down water from Neil’s bottle. Neil hadn’t even noticed him coming inside, he’d been so preoccupied. Neil stared at Andrew; his exposed skin was bronzed from the sun and gleaming, the taut muscles smudged with dirt. A trickle of cold water splashed down his chin and fell on his collarbone and when Neil imagined chasing it with his tongue, he gulped.

“Like what?” Neil managed to ask eventually.

“Like you’re trying to fuck me with your eyeballs,” Andrew replied, tossing the water bottle at him.

Neil caught it. The cold was a shock against his burning hands, which had been tucked between his legs.

“I’m not,” Neil protested weakly.

Andrew pointedly looked at the straining fabric of Neil’s sweatpants and then back to Neil. He raised his eyebrows, a question swimming in the liquid gold of his eyes.

“You’re allowed to initiate things with me, Neil,” Andrew told him.

Neil knew that. They’d talked about it a lot. But-

“I know that, and- I _do_ want to. Sometimes,” Neil said, frowning, “But it just feels, I don’t know, embarrassing?”

“Is it embarrassing when I instigate things with you?”

“No. No. I just- I don't know what to do, what to say.”

“How about ‘I’m horny and I want you to get me off. Yes or No?’”

Neil winced, feeling his skin flush and prickle.

“That sounds so blunt.”

“How else? I’m not a mind reader.”

“We’ve just- you’ve always started things. I _like_ it when you do.”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about letting your husband know you want to fuck him when you’re got a raging hard-on. It’s hot, even.”

“Stop saying _fuck_ ,” Neil groaned, tightening his crossed legs, “It’s making it worse.”

“It?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Neil replied, rolling his eyes.

“And what do you want to do?” Andrew asked, the words dripping out of his mouth, syrupy and hot.

“I want you to get me off,” Neil told him, half-breathless, “Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Andrew muttered, taking two long strides to bridge the distance between the TV and the couch and easily sliding to his knees between Neil’s thighs. As he placed a deliberately soft kiss to Neil’s knee, Neil arched his back and squirmed in anticipation. Andrew reached up and tugged the bottom of Neil’s t-shirt, so Neil grabbed the hem and pulled it off in one fluid motion, the sudden tickly plushness of the sofa cushions sending shivers down his naked back.

Andrew roughly reach into his sweatpants and pulled his erection free. Neil felt hard, hot, like every atom in his body was vibrating, trembling. He closed his eyes and let out a soft ‘ah’ as Andrew spat a blob of spit into his palm and started smoothing it up and down Neil’s dick. He twisted his hand up and down until Neil was slick and wet, palming the sensitive tip teasingly until Neil let out a shivery gasp.

“I want to suck your dick. Yes or no?” Andrew mumbled against Neil’s thigh, his eyes flickering upward to find Neil’s.

“Yes,” Neil breathed out, and then Andrew licked his lips, so that they were slick with spit. He looked down to where Neil was stiff, and then ducked down, slowly sliding Neil’s dick into his mouth. Andrew’s mouth was warm and wet, and his tongue curled snugly around Neil as his head began bobbing up-and-down. Neil felt his legs stiffen and tremble and he dug his heels into the floor, letting the shock-hot electric tremor of it roll over his entire body. Andrew’s eyes were closed, his cheeks slightly dimpled from the gentle sucking. Neil grabbed the couch cushions, trying to stay still, feeling the orgasm build up inside him like the rising red of a thermometer. Andrew’s head went up, and he sucked the tip, and then he went down, taking Neil’s dick deep into his mouth. He repeated this motion, getting faster with each suck, each swirl of his tongue.

“I’m going to come,” Neil told him, his hands balling into fists around the cushions and a low groan escaping from his throat as he did so.

Andrew grabbed Neil’s dick in his right hand and started jerking it off, sucking the top half of it fast and hard until Neil came. It caught the side of Andrew’s mouth, scattered messily across his left shoulder, as he tried to catch it in his palm. Neil let out a long, loud sigh, his legs twitching pleasantly, and the post-orgasm bliss enveloping him like a pool of warm water. He reached out to run a hand through Andrew’s hair.

“That was amazing,” Neil said, “You want to- ?”

“I want to sit on your lap and jerk myself off,” Andrew told him plainly, “Yes or no?”

“Yes. _Yes_. Get up here.”

Andrew got up and straddled Neil, undoing his shorts. Their cocks bumped together, Neil’s still slick and wet from Andrew’s mouth. Andrew shifted his ass in Neil’s lap, getting comfy, the pink, stiff shininess of his cock grinding against Neil’s own. Neil looked down as Andrew started leisurely stroking himself. He was getting himself off, his eyes snapping from Neil’s eyes to his torso, to his arms, and then back to his eyes. Always back to his eyes.

Neil brushed a hand, whisper-soft, against the straining muscle of Andrew’s thigh, and began rubbing up and down in time with Andrew’s strokes. Andrew blew a strand of hair out of his face and let out a rough, little murmur of pleasure before entwining his hand with Neil’s.

“You?” He said, and Neil understood the question perfectly.

“Yes. Yes,” Neil replied eagerly, letting Andrew guide his hand to his dick, and pressing it down.

Neil wrapped his hand around Andrew’s dick and started jerking it off in the same speed Andrew had just been going, squeezing when he reached the tip, just the way Andrew liked it. Andrew pressed his lips together tightly, the skin between his eyes crumpling into a thousand little, bent stars. His hands were splayed wide against Neil’s chest, his right palm flat against Neil’s heart.

“You look so good,” Neil muttered, “You’ve still got come on you. Holy shit.”

“Ugh,” Andrew groaned, narrowing his eyebrows, “Before you were too embarrassed to say you wanted to fuck and now you won’t shut up about come?”

Neil chuckled at that and picked up the pace. Andrew leant forward and pressed his forehead to Neil’s. His skin was still hot from the sun, his freckles whisky-drenched.

“It’s- I’m-” He said, and Neil kept going, his hand tight. He felt the wet, warmth of it splashing against his chest but he didn’t look down. He looked at Andrew, his rosy lips parted and breaths coming out in short, tiny puffs. They sat like that a moment, hot and flushed, with Andrew still sitting in Neil’s lap and their foreheads touching.

“I need to take a shower,” Andrew said eventually, “I’m covered in sweat, spit and spunk.”

“And dirt,” Neil added, pointing to the mud on Andrew’s calf.

“Fucking garden,” Andrew mumbled, climbing off Neil’s lap and heading for the bathroom.

Neil looked down at his half-naked body, realising he was pretty much covered in sweat, spit and spunk too, and wondered if his husband would mind sharing the shower.

Later, they sat watching Netflix, sprawled on opposite ends of the couch. Andrew’s feet were cradled in Neil’s lap.

“I’ll be more vocal in the future,” Neil said, all of a sudden.

Andrew shot him a look before turning his attention to the TV.

“What is this shit?” He asked, taking a swig of beer.

“I don’t know. Something about murder? Nicky said it was good.”

“Well it’s not.”

“I know. I couldn’t focus. I was too busy looking at your legs. Your shorts are too long, by the way.”

“I’ll borrow some of yours next time,” Andrew replied, rolling his eyes.

Neil blew him a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know about typos / prompt me w/ some soft aus / chat shite @ my [tumblr](http://palmetttos.tumblr.com)


End file.
